


I'll Be Waiting

by xxCat1989xx



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxCat1989xx/pseuds/xxCat1989xx
Summary: Mitch is in London. Scott is in LA. He misses him... a lot. A trip over there makes him realise a lot of things that maybe he should've noticed sooner.





	I'll Be Waiting

_“I got promoted today.”_

_“Oh wow, really. That's amazing, babe. I'm so proud of you. What's the job?”_

_“They want me to oversee the opening of the new branch... in London.”_

_\--_

_“You know I love you, right? I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”_

_“Of course I do, Scott. I love you too. Why are you talking like I’m not coming back?”_

_“What if you don’t though? What if your new friends are better than me? What if you like London more than here?”_

_“Impossible. London doesn’t have you in it.”_

 

“Scotty.”

Huh. What? What is Mitch doing here? He’s supposed to be in London. Has been there forever - six months… he isn’t counting or anything - but as Scott drifts in and out of consciousness as he wakes, it sounds like Mitch is right next to him. Like he’s waking him up with coffee and a smile like he used to so long ago.

Only he can’t smell any coffee. And Mitch really has been gone for six months.

“Scotttyyyyy. Wake up, baby.”

Scott's eyes blink open and closed as he wakes, staying open longer and longer as he becomes more aware of his surroundings. He squints at the bright light filtering in through the drapes.

“Baaaaabbbee.”

He turns his head towards Mitch's voice and groans when he realises it’s coming through the laptop. It’s still propped up on the bed where he set it up the night before to Skype with Mitch. He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

“Morning,” he grumbles, rubbing at his eyes. He rolls onto his back and looks up, eyes tracing the pattern in the ceiling until he gets dizzy and has to close them again. “What time is it there? How is this still connected?” Scott pauses, a sudden thought taking root. “Were you watching me sleep?”

Mitch snickers, “It's 3 in the afternoon here. I didn't turn it off when you fell asleep, and no, not really. It's mostly been running in the background as I've been looking over some new designs. I have to say though, your cute, little snores are the perfect soundtrack to work to.”

Scott rolls back towards the screen, tucking the covers under his chin. He glares at him.

“Oh god. Shut up. I do not snore.”

“Haha. Yes, you do. It was adorable. Do you want me to recreate them for you?”

“Goodbye, Mitch.”

Scott reaches his hand out to end the call, ignoring Mitch who's fake-sleeping on the screen, over exaggerated snores filtering through the speaker. He peeks one eye open, smirk taking over his pretty face. Scott wants to smack it off, but not really.

Mitch bolts upright when he realises Scott is actually leaving, pout forming on his lips.

“Scott, don't leave me. My next meeting isn’t for another hour. You need to entertain me.”

“Nope. I need to work. Bye.”

Mitch crosses his arms across his chest. “Oh fine. I love yo-”

Scott hangs up on him, chuckling at the image in his head of Mitch staring open-mouthed at his computer; sitting in his office in a high rise building overlooking the River Thames that Scott has only ever seen photos of.

Even though he’s so far away (way, way too far), Scott’s still so fucking proud. Mitch has earned every square foot of that office space. Worked the long hours, long days, long weeks. No free time, not even weekends. Not once complaining. Putting his degree in fashion to use and taking over the world.

But Scott _misses_ him. Skype, texts and Twitter can only fill the void so much.

Rolling out of bed, he grabs his phone off the side and opens up his WhatsApp conversation to Mitch. It's filled with little stories, random photos they think the other would appreciate; nothing of any real importance. They Skype more often than not. Anything important can be said rather than text. And despite how busy Mitch is, he's always available for Scott if he wants to talk. Even with six months and thousands of miles between them, Mitch is still, and always will be, the most important person in his life.

_i love you too_ , he types, smiling at the heart-eyes emoji Mitch sends back instantly.

\--

_is it too much to ask that the staff turn up on time??_ Mitch messages him a few hours later.

Scott laughs, tapping out a response, _oh, mitchy. not everyone is as perfect as you_ _x_

“Is that Mitch?” says a voice over his shoulder, making him jump and lock his phone, hastily hiding the device under paperwork.

He turns to the newcomer, but it’s only Kirstie, thank god. Nothing says unprofessional more than being caught playing on his phone by a client. It wouldn't be the first time he's been caught out.

“Jesus, you’re like a ninja,” he sighs, putting a hand to his chest. “Stop sneaking up on me.”

Scott drops his pen on the desk and rubs at his tired eyes.

Who knew writing a song for an up-and-coming boyband would be so hard? ‘ _It needs to be a love song, but not too mushy, maybe a dance track, but not a dance track, do you know what I mean?_ ’ the conversation with the band’s team went several days ago. He’s still working on how to compose a dance track, but not a dance track. Maybe Danny could help him.

He picks up the receiver and starts to dial the number when Kirstie takes it from his hand and hangs up before walking away. “Take a break. Talk to me.”

“Yes, it was Mitch.” Pushing away from his desk, Scott stretches his legs out in front of him. He’s spent far too long cooped up in this tiny office today, headache starting to form behind his eyes.

“How’s that long distance thing going for you?” she asks absentmindedly, picking up empty coffee mugs and dumping the balls of paper scattered around his desk in the trash.

Hiring Kirstie as his assistant was the best decision he ever made. She doesn’t moan at him for making a mess, or hoarding coffee mugs until their little kitchen area runs out. She makes sure he goes home at a reasonable hour, takes regular breaks, and manages his calendar like no one else before her has been able to. He’s the least stressed he’s ever been doing this job. He really should talk to Avi about upping her pay.

“What long distance thing?”

Kirstie rolls her eyes as she leaves the room. Scott gets up to follow. He hopes she put a fresh pot of coffee on.

“You know, you in one place. Him in another. Me and Jeremy had to do it for a while and it sucked but we made it work for us.”

“You and Jer- whoa. Hang in. We’re nothing like you and Jeremy. Do you think Mitch and I are in a relationship?”

“Aren’t you?” Her eyebrows rise in surprise, disappearing underneath her bangs.

“Seriously?” he replies, amazed that she's got it so wrong.

“Well, yeah I just assumed. You’re always texting and calling him. It’s always ‘Mitch is so funny’, ‘Mitch is so nice’, ‘Isn’t Mitch great?’ I mean, from what you’ve told me about him, I agree on all accounts, but really? You guys aren’t together?”

“What? No. Of course not. He’s my best and oldest friend.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry for thinking otherwise.” Kirstie turns to fill a clean mug with coffee, before turning back to hand it to Scott. “Really?” she asks again.

“Yes, really. Why is that so hard to believe?” Scott accepts the mug, taking a small sip.

Leaning against the counter behind her, Kirstie cradles her mug between her hands. Her long, blonde hair billows around her shoulders in curls, and with the under-cabinet lights behind her, it creates a halo effect around her head. Scott almost roars with laughter.

Kirstie is anything but an angel. He’s still traumatised from the staff night out a few weeks ago. Too many shots, too much dancing. Scott’s fairly certain Mitch wasn’t impressed with his late night (late morning for Mitch) phone call that might have been filled with way too much screaming.

“I just- you sound very in love for someone who says they aren’t together.”

Scott chokes on his next sip. He reaches to put his mug on the side so he doesn’t drop it, feeling like he’s going to cough up a lung. Kirstie darts over to him and pats him on the back until he gets his breathing back under control.

Wiping at his streaming eyes, Scott edges away from her. Did she _take_ something this morning? Has she been watching too many romcoms again? She’s known to get a bit sappy after watching The Notebook. Either way, maybe the crazy is contagious. He doesn’t want to catch it.

“What? I’m not- no, um, I’m not in love with Mitch.”

“Okay. I believe you.” Her tone suggests anything but.

When he doesn’t say anything in response, Kirstie starts to walk out the room, probably heading towards Avi in the studio to laugh at Scott’s expense again, when she stops at the threshold and turns back to him. “Really?”

\--

“Hey, so London Fashion Week is soon. Can I put you down as my plus one?”

“What?”

Scott looks up from the song he’s working on - not the not-dance track. He finished that last week and got spectacularly drunk the same night (Mitch mentioned something about ‘blackmail material’ the following day). On screen, Mitch is rummaging through his closet; the only thing he’s wearing is a pair of tiny boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination.

Early morning sunlight streams through the windows behind him, painting his skin in yellows and oranges that make him glow. Scott’s throat goes dry at the sight and his heart beats faster and faster in his chest. He catches his own face on the screen, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Oh god.

“Will you put some clothes on?” He tries to school his face into something resembling indifferent.

Mitch turns to the screen, hands on his hips. “Since when you do care about minor nudity?”

“I don’t.”

“Hmm,” Mitch hums, grabbing a black shirt and pulling it over his head. “So, will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Scotty, did you hear a word I said?”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he sighs and scrubs at his eyes. “Long day.” Not a lie, also _dammit Kirstie_ . He pushes the papers to the side and leans towards the screen, resting his face on his folded arms. He’s so tired. And now he can’t stop _thinking_.

Kirstie really struck a chord with what she asked, and now Scott’s overthinking every interaction, every message. He’s been distracted all day and had been looking forward to nothing more than climbing into bed as soon as he got home, but Mitch had text him earlier in the day and asked him to Skype with him when he woke up. And he will never turn down an opportunity to talk to Mitch.

Scott watches as Mitch pulls a pair of cropped skinny jeans on before coming closer. He settles into the seat in front of the laptop and tilts his head to the side appraisingly.

“Are you okay?” The concern in his eyes makes tears spring to Scott’s own. He misses him so bad.

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott sniffles. He waves a hand in front of his face, brushing away the concern. “I’m okay. Promise. Just tired and frustrated with this new song.”

“That’s okay, honey. I said, do you want me to put you down for London Fashion Week? I know it’s not your kind of thing, but it sounds like you could use a break? I mean, I’ll be working for some of it, but you can stay with me, and when I have time, I can show you around.”

Scott tries to remember his schedule, wonders if he can get Kirstie to rearrange everything he had planned that week. She probably could. She’s always telling him to book a vacation.

“Um, I think I could make it.”

Oh, who’s Scott kidding? He’d move mountains to be in the same place as Mitch right now. Nothing is more important than the chance to see Mitch in person.

Before he moved they’d never spent any length of time away from each other. Even Christmases with their families they weren’t apart. Their parents were best friends, so it was inevitable that most evenings they’d be at one of their houses; eating and drinking until one or the other crashed out in the guest room, just to wake up the next day and spend every moment together again.

“Whoa, your enthusiasm is infectious. Please, calm down, I can’t take it.” Mitch winks.

Scott laughs, loud and unabashed, head thrown back. When he looks back at the screen, Mitch is grinning smugly.

“There’s that gorgeous smile I wanted to see. So yes to Fashion Week?”

“Yes, Mitch. Yes, I would love to come to London.”

\--

_what does one wear to a fashion show?_

_you? nothing ;)_

_mitch!_

_okay. sorry. don’t worry about it. i have stuff at work you can borrow_

_okay thank you_

_but if you really wanted to, i wouldn’t be against you wearing nothing_

_aksjdjfklf goodbye mitch x_

\--

_i’m on the plane. i’ll text you when i land. can’t wait to see you_

_there will be a car waiting for you, sorry i can’t come pick you up :(_

_doesn’t matter babe. am i coming to your work or…?_

_yeah, told the driver to bring you straight here_

_yay! see you soon x_

_\--_

Scott’s nervous. He has no idea why. It’s Mitch - his best friend, his partner in crime, his platonic soulmate, and yet, nerves are eating away at his stomach and he can’t stop his knee from bouncing.

They haven’t seen each other in person for so long. What if everything’s different? What if Mitch takes one look at Scott and decides their dynamic has changed? What if? What if? What if?

_were you always nervous about seeing jeremy after so long away from each other?_ he messages Kirstie, hoping she’ll be able to set his mind at ease.

He should be exhausted. Lack of sleep the night before and an early flight should mean he’s ready to pass out, but he feels like he’s drunk a million cups of coffee, can feel his blood whizzing through his veins, making him jittery and feel on edge.

_for a minute, but as soon as i saw him i was fine. why are you nervous? you said he’s just a friend_

Scott rolls his eyes and puts his phone away.

“We’re nearly there, sir,” the driver says, navigating the busy London streets like a pro, switching lanes as they pull up to a red light. Scott takes the opportunity to look out the window, taking in the sights and sounds around him.

It’s really no different than LA, with the notable exception of the pouring rain for the time of year it is, washing everything a steely grey. It runs in uneven lines down the window, distorting the view beyond. A multitude of umbrellas and waterproof jackets the only splashes of colour. People moving around each other with a gracefulness that only a busy city can create. A city designed to hold millions of people with ease. And one Mitch Grassi.

Five minutes later, the car pulls to a stop at the side of the road. Scott climbs out, thanking the driver who rushed around to open the door for him. Scott looks up, squinting his eyes against the rain that beats down on him.

The building is huge; easily twenty stories, probably more. All glass and white cladding. Scott can just about see the top from this angle and it makes him feel tiny. It dwarfs the buildings around it.

“Have a good stay, sir,” the driver says, handing him his bags.

Scott calls a weak “thank you”, hearing a car door slam shut behind him as he stares at the imposing building in front of him. He’s seen buildings like this before, obviously, but this one feels different as he looks at it. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s in a strange city. Maybe it’s because he’s finally in the same place as Mitch. Maybe it’s because Mitch is in _this_ building. Nerves make way for excitement, bubbling away in his stomach until a smile blooms on his face.

He jumps when his phone chimes in his pocket. He chuckles as he slides it out - _i’m on the 13th floor. come up when you get here. i need to see your stupid face ;) x_

With a destination in mind, Scott heads into the building. He crosses the white, tile floor towards the bank of lifts in the corner, focused on one thing. He can look around the lobby later, but Mitch is upstairs waiting for him, and suddenly Scott can’t stand to spend another minute without him.

He pushes the button to go up and dives into the first lift that appears. Watching the numbers above the door light up as he passes each floor, he bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Scott mumbles. The strap of his bag digs into his shoulder, rainwater starting to dry on his skin, making it tacky and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t care. He can only imagine how much of a mess he looks; hair limp and damp, eyes bloodshot, and airplane smell stuck to his clothes, but it’s not important. _Mitch_. His eyes never leave the numbers above the door and finally, the number he wants, ‘13’, lights up.

The doors slide open and Scott steps out, adjusting his belongings. A long desk sits in front of him, taking up much of the space. He walks towards it, guessing it be a reception area.

“Can I help you, sir?” a pretty brunette behind the desk asks, not looking away from the screen in front of her.

“Um, yes, I’m hoping so. I’m here to see Mitch Grassi. He’s expecting me,” Scott responds.

“Name?”

“Scott Hoying.”

He isn’t expecting it when the woman freezes in the middle of typing, turning her head so sharp Scott’s sure it hurt. Her green eyes widen as she swivels in her chair to face him. Delicate hands rise to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god.”

Scott tilts his head, ready to ask why she sounds so surprised if Mitch is expecting him, but heels clacking on more tiled flooring pulls his attention down a long corridor.

Bright overhead lights reflect off glass office walls. The floor gleams. People talk, laugh, shout at each other as they pass, but it’s the person walking towards him, steps getting quicker and louder as he slips through the press of people heading the other way, that Scott’s eyes focus on.

Looking so different, but very much the same person that left him six months ago is...

“Mitch,” Scott breathes. Dropping his bags where he stands, Scott turns to face him and within seconds, Mitch is pushing his way into Scott’s arms. His head settles against Scott’s chest, tucked under his chin. Slender arms wrap around Scott’s waist and hold tight. Scott lifts his own to wrap around Mitch’s shoulders. Taking a steadying breath, his nose is filled with the scent of perfume, strawberries and _Mitch_ , and it feels so much like coming home that tears well in his eyes.

Mitch pulls away first, grinning up at him. His eyes sparkle as he looks over Scott’s face. His smile softens when he sees the tears in Scott’s eyes and he reaches for Scott’s hand.

“Let’s go to my office,” he says softly. He leans over to grab one of the bags and tugs him away from the desk. “Mer, hold all my calls, please.”

“Sure thing, Mr Grassi.”

“It’s _Mitch_ ,” he stresses, sounding amused. “You’ve seen me throwing up in the bathroom. I think we can skip formalities now, don’t you?”

“Sorry, Mitch. Do you want me to send out for coffee?”

Mitch looks at Scott. Scott shrugs, eyes getting heavier the longer he stands there. He can feel himself swaying on his feet but is powerless to stop it. Lack of sleep and the long journey here finally catching up with him. Coffee sounds amazing right now, but before he can answer, Mitch beats him to it.

“No, that’s okay, thanks. Just going to finish up some paperwork and then take this one home. Can you do me a favour and reschedule the team meeting for tomorrow at 9am?”

Scott starts to protest. If Mitch needs to work he should be here. He can take a cab back to Mitch’s apartment by himself if needs be. Or set up a nest on the couch he knows Mitch has stashed in his office. Mitch doesn’t need to drop everything for him. But Mitch squeezes his hand once, and Scott stops arguing.

“No worries, boss. Consider it done. Just let me know if you need me to call a car for you.” She glances Scott’s way and her gaze softens in understanding. “ _When_ you need me to call a car.”

“Thank you, Meredith.”

Mitch starts to pull Scott down the long corridor, not stopping to speak to anyone even when they try to pull him into conversation. Scott follows behind, steps lagging a beat or two, the bag he’s still holding bouncing against his lower back. When they reach a door at the end, Mitch tugs him through and shuts it behind them. Scott’s jaw drops when Mitch turns the lock and the whole glass wall turns opaque.

“Wow, that’s a neat trick.”

“What? Oh, yeah. It’s something.”

Mitch drops the bag he’s carrying by the door and takes the other from Scott, placing them neatly side-by-side. He turns back and the smile that takes over his face makes the butterflies in Scott’s stomach take flight.

Six months, a million texts, tweets and phone calls, an eleven-hour flight and thousands of miles, and Scott’s finally here.

A sob makes it’s way out of his chest before he can stop it, and then Mitch is back in his arms, tucked back under his chin and holding on so tight that Scott worries he’ll break a rib. But he doesn’t complain, doesn’t utter a single word as he hugs him back, holds him tighter. It feels good, feels amazing. They still fit.

It could be minutes, it could’ve been hours when Mitch finally takes a deep breath and backs away, though he doesn’t go far. His hands rest on Scott’s hips, gripping onto his damp jacket. Scott holds onto Mitch’s shoulder and _looks._

Mitch looks good; healthy, eyes bright and smile relaxed. His once long fringe is now short bangs across his forehead. He’s wearing a sleeveless fitted blue shirt that shows off his tattoos, over cropped black trousers. Black heeled shoes complete his outfit. Scott, in his black joggers and tank top, worn sneakers on his feet, feels severely undressed.

He’s beautiful.

Mitch giggles. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Scott winces. Right, he said that last part out loud. A blush alights his cheeks and he ducks his head, looking away shyly. He has no idea why he’s embarrassed about complimenting Mitch. He never has been before. Always showering Mitch with love and praise; telling him he looks gorgeous all the time, joking about wanting to kiss him to put a smile on his face. But after Kirstie’s comments about being in love with Mitch, Scott’s worried that it’s written all over his face, even though he _isn’t_.

“Wow,” Scott says, clearing his throat. “You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself.” He finishes with a wink. There. That’s normal for them. He hopes.

“Oh, come on. You don’t need me to tell you how gorgeous you are.”

Scott freezes when Mitch reaches up and cups his cheek in his palm. His eyes are warm as he looks at Scott, brown eyes twinkling with mirth. Scott swallows against the well of emotion that rises up his chest.

“I’ll never be as gorgeous as you.”

“That’s true.”

Scott rolls his eyes fondly and steps away. He walks over to the window and looks outside. From here he has a great view of the London skyline. He can see the wheel in the distance (“You need to go on the London Eye while you’re there. Take photos,” Kirstie had asked him as she was booking his flight.); everything else behind that hazy due to the rain and smog hanging over the city.

He feels rather than hears Mitch stand next to him, pressed against his side. Mitch hooks his little finger with Scott’s.

“I’m glad you came.”

Scott turns to his friend, looks at Mitch as Mitch looks out the window.

“Me too, Mitchy. Me too.”

\--

It’s early afternoon when Scott finally wakes up, despite having gone to bed quite early the night before. He rolls over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, smile wide on his face. He’s here, in Mitch’s guest room, in Mitch’s apartment. And although Mitch is currently at work; he’s in the same city, the same time-zone. Scott feels peace settle in his veins.

He stretches languidly, content to take his time getting up. The sheets under his bare back are soft and cool, and feel so much better compared to his own. He can’t remember a time in the last few months when he slept so well.

Just as he’s contemplating moving, going to find coffee and breakfast, his phone starts ringing from the nightstand. Scott reaches for it and snuggles back down under the covers as he presses answer.

“Hey Scotty. How’s it going? Told him you love him yet?”

Scott rolls his eyes, but grins all the same. “Hi Kirstie. What time is it there?”

“Late. But I wanted to check you got there okay.”

“Aw, do you miss me?”

“Not even a little bit. So, did you? Did he meet you at the airport? Run and jump into your arms, like they do in the movies? Was it romantic?” she presses, giggling when he sighs in exasperation.

“Kirstie,” Scott groans. “You know it isn’t like that.”

“I know. I’m just messing.”

“So, did you call for any particular reason or just to laugh at me?”

“Oh, yeah, um, Avi said Kevin is coming in tomorrow to work on some tracks. I just wondered if you left anything for them to work on.”

“Oh, shit. I forgot about that. I’ll email you the files over in a bit.”

“Okay. Thanks. Have a great time with Mitch. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That doesn’t exactly leave me with a lot to work with here.”

Kirstie laughs again. “And for that I might just fuck with your office while you’re not here. How do you like glitter?”

“Kirstie, don’t you dare!” he warns, but is met with silence as Kirstie ends the call. He knows it’s futile trying to call her back; she won’t answer and even if she did, there’s nothing he can do from here. He’s in way too much of a good mood to really care right now anyway.

Tapping on the screen, he switches over to his messages with Mitch.

_this bed is amazing. i’m taking it back with me_

Once it’s sent, he figures he might as well get up. He’s in a city he’s been dying to visit for so long, and not just because Mitch is here.

He can go see Big Ben, the Tower of London. Take a trip on a river boat. Any number of touristy things. Opening the memo app on his phone, he makes a list of the things he wants to see, and then switches over to the internet to find some more he hadn’t even thought about.

Just as he’s typing ‘ _things to do in London_ ’ the door to the room opens and he jumps.

“Scotty?” Mitch calls, poking his head around the door.

Scott sits staring at him; eyes wide and hand clutched to his chest. His heart's beating so fast he worries that it’ll give out. What the fuck is it with people trying to scare him to death?

“What the hell?” Scott says breathlessly. He squints at Mitch. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be working?”

Mitch hums thoughtfully, stepping into the room. He walks over to the bed before climbing up next to Scott. He pushes Scott back down, takes his phone from him and tosses it to the end of the bed. Draping himself across Scott’s body, Mitch sighs happily, propping his head up on Scott’s chest.

“I’m working from home today. Went in for the meeting but came home as soon as it ended.”

It registers then what Mitch is wearing. Pyjama pants and a t-shirt that’s way too big on him. Scott tilts his head to the side. He’s seen that shirt before, thought he’d lost it months ago.

“What? Why? Mitchy, I’m-”

“I know. I know you’re fine on your own but Scott, I missed you so much. It felt wrong being there when you were here.”

Warmth spreads through Scott’s body, smile growing the longer he looks at Mitch. He lifts his arms to wrap around his friend and leans up awkwardly to press a kiss to his forehead.

“But LFW is your dream?”

“Yeah. It is. But I’ve realised something over the last couple of months. As much as being here is what I always worked towards, being here without you was never part of the plan. I’m not saying I’m giving it all up and coming home but while you’re here, I plan on enjoying my time with you. I can do most of what I need from home. The team I have are… excellent and I know they are more than capable of cope-”

“Mitch, you’re rambling. I get it.”

Mitch huffs and snuggles into Scott’s side. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s cute. Now, nap time.” Scott kisses Mitch on his forehead again before settling down and closing his eyes.

“You’ve literally just woke up,” Mitch protests. He makes no effort to move though, just sighs and rests his head on Scott’s shoulder, burying his face in the space between his neck and shoulder. Scott giggles as puffs of air tickle his skin, but sighs contentedly.

“I know. But I missed this. Just an hour or so.” His voice drifts off, brain slowing down and eyes heavy. Jetlag is a bitch, and between that and cuddling with Mitch, he feels like he could sleep for another day.

“Okay. One hour, and then we’re going out.”

“Love you,” he slurs sleepily, but he never hears a response. Between one breath and the next he falls into a dreamless sleep.

\--

“Scotty.”

Scott frowns and attempts to roll away from whoever is intruding on his sleep, huffing when his right arm doesn’t move with him.

He was having such a nice dream. He was in London with Mitch and-

Scott's eyes fly open and he looks to his right.

It wasn’t a dream.

Mitch looks back at him, eyes sleepy but a bright smile on his face. He’s lying on Scott’s arm, still nestled into the space he fell asleep in, his own resting across Scott’s stomach. His hand is stroking the skin at Scott’s hip. It sends a shiver up his spine and he groans at the sensation.

“Hi,” Mitch greets quietly, leaning forward to nose at Scott’s shoulder. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Scott replies. He reaches a hand up to rub the sleep out his eyes, pulls Mitch closer with the other. “Whattime’sit?” he grumbles, rolling to face Mitch.

A leg slots in between Scott’s. He tries to pretend it doesn’t affect him more than it should.

“Um,” Mitch leans up to look over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. “Just after 4. We slept a little longer than an hour.”

Scott laughs, “Yeah, try three.”

Mitch shrugs and burrows in Scott’s chest. He couldn’t get any closer if he tried. Scott’s used to how tactile they are, how they have been since day one. Hugs, kisses and cuddles mean everything and nothing to them. It’s just part of who they are. Others have tried to come between them, have questioned it, but it’s never changed them. And it never will.

But this is new. Mitch was always happy to reciprocate when Scott was the one to initiate, but almost never started things by himself. It never bothered Scott. Mitch shows his affection in other ways; in coffee, texts and sudden trips abroad. He learned quite early on that Mitch isn’t very giving with his thoughts and feelings, even with Scott sometimes. But Mitch never fought Scott off when he wrapped his arms around his friend for a hug, when he pulled him down onto the sofa for a nap on a Sunday afternoon - Scott hungover and Mitch overworked.

“Hey, are you okay?” Scott asks. His free hand drifts up and down Mitch’s back, tracing nonsensical patterns into the fabric of the t-shirt, slipping underneath every now and again to press against sleep-warm skin.

“Huh? What?” Mitch pulls his head away from Scott’s chest and looks up at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. I promise. Just enjoying you being here.”

“Okay. Do you want to go do something? You mentioned going out before we fell asleep?”

“Hmm. Oh. Actually, can we just stay in tonight? I know you’re only here a week and we stayed in last night but I just want to be with you.”

“Of course. That sounds awesome. Wine night?”

“Wine night,” Mitch says, smile brighter than the sun.

\--

Before either of them realise it, the final night of Scott’s week in London arrives, and he’s really trying to forget it’s happening, concentrating on enjoying every moment with his best friend.

They’ve done everything Scott wanted to do (when Mitch hasn’t needed to work); seen all the sights, eaten at a lot of fantastic restaurants and food stalls that Mitch swears by, laughed and flirted and cuddled. He’s relaxed and recharged, ready to go back to work. But he can already feel the separation that's coming. The long goodbye. The ache in his chest throbs.

Scott fixes the collar of his shirt in the full-length mirror in the guest room, struggling to decide whether he wants it buttoned all the way to the top or the top two left open. They’re meeting a bunch of Mitch’s work friends at a club in Soho, to celebrate the end of a hard work week and to say goodbye to Scott. He wants to look perfect. He doesn’t want to show up Mitch in front of his friends.

“You ready, baby?” Mitch asks, walking through the open doorway towards Scott. He stops at Scott’s side and looks at their reflections in the mirror.

Scott can’t deny that they’d make a gorgeous couple. Complete opposites in their appearance that it somehow works. Scott’s blonde hair against Mitch’s dark brown. His own pale skin contrasting with Mitch’s tan. Scott’s simple outfit of shirt and jeans so different from Mitch’s more eccentric outfit of a sheer blouse and leather pants.

He’s often wondered what it would be like to kiss Mitch properly, for it to be more than a simple peck of lips that they share sometimes. But it’s never been something he’s thought of seriously. Mitch likes his bad boys: the treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen type that Scott has always hated. He’s not Mitch’s usual type at all. And it’s never bothered him before. Not until Kirstie mentioned how much they sound like a couple.

“Scott!”

Scott startles out of his thoughts and turns to face a disgruntled Mitch. Oh right, he must’ve been calling his attention for a while.

“Sorry, Mitchy. What did you say?” He can see the blush on his cheeks in the mirror and hopes that Mitch doesn’t call him out on it. He doesn’t want to have to explain where his thoughts had gone - he doesn’t understand it entirely himself. Fifteen years of friendship and it’s never been a problem until now.

“I said, leave it open. I can see you messing with your shirt. You look great.”

If he burst into flames right now, would Mitch notice? A simple compliment that they’ve shared a million times before shouldn’t make him feel like this.

“Thank you,” he replies. Dragging his gaze away from the mirror, Scott turns to Mitch and gives him a proper look up and down before whistling appreciatively. “You can tell who’s earning the real money out of us two. Am I going to be beating boys off with a stick tonight?”

Mitch giggles coyly and spins on the spot so Scott can look him over better. He strikes a pose. Scott feels like someone has stabbed him in the chest.

“Hey. There will be none of that tonight. It’s your last night here and I don’t plan on leaving your side. But if the boys want to look, mommy isn’t complaining.”

“Oh, they’ll want to do more than look,” Scott says, leering at Mitch who laughs.

“Well, they can look but this girl plans on drinking and dancing with her best friend all night, so come on. Car should be outside by now. We’re picking Mer up on the way.”

Mitch walks away, hips swaying seductively. Scott feels his mouth water.

Oh god, what is he going to do?

\--

“So, how long have you known our Mitch then?” Meredith asks him as they stand at the bar.

“Since we were ten,” he replies, refraining from adding ‘ _he’s not yours_ .’ He isn’t Scott’s either. Seeing him surrounded by his work colleagues, in his element - inside jokes and things Scott _doesn’t_ know - made Scott realise how much Mitch doesn’t need him. He’s got a life here, and granted, the plan has always been for Mitch to come home eventually, but Scott feels very much like an outsider.

“Aw. Wow. That’s a long time. And you’ve never…” she trails off, raising her eyebrows at him suggestively.

“Um, no. Always just been best friends.”

Meredith’s smile drops off her face. “Oh right. I just thought… the way he speaks about you… I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

She goes to step away, holding a tray of drinks in her hands, but Scott grabs her shoulder lightly to stop her. She turns back slowly, sheepish look on her face.

“Mer, has Mitch said something to you?”

“No? I mean, not really.” She sighs before placing the tray on the nearest table. “Look, Scott, when Mitch first got here he was this shy, insecure guy who looked like he had no idea what he was doing. I know he was sent here to set this all up and run it, but for so long he wasn’t sure. I didn’t think he’d last a month. And then, one day he comes into the office. Head held high. Confidence in his step. Like he belonged here. And he looked so different than the timid boss who’d left us the night before.

“I asked him what had happened. And he just smirked at me and said ‘Scott’. I didn’t ask. For the longest time I thought ‘Scott’ was just a drunken one night stand. And then we went out and all Mitch did was talk about you. He didn’t say a lot and I’m not going to betray his confidence by telling you what he said.

“But Scott, Mitch _adores_ you. You could be so much more than best friends. I know it’s scary. You’ve been in this for so long that changing that might be the worst mistake ever, but isn’t it a mistake to not try either?”

With that she picks the tray back up and heads over to the booths they’ve taken over for the night.

Scott watches as Mitch laughs at something as he takes the drink Meredith hands to him.

Looking at his friend he wonders if Mitch has been thinking the same thing all these years. And when Mitch smirks at him across the room he realises he just might have been. His cheeks are flushed, from the heat and drinks he’s consumed probably. But maybe from the way Scott is looking at him as well. He’s so beautiful when he’s relaxed and enjoying himself. Scott wants to be the reason why Mitch smiles like that.

Oh.

_Oh_!

Oh shit.

Realisation dawns on Scott. What everybody has been trying to tell him… for years if Scott’s being honest. He remembers his sisters teasing him constantly that he had a crush on his best friend. And then Kirstie assuming they were already together. Meredith telling him it was worth the risk.

Panic races through his body. A bead of sweat makes it way down the side of his face. His breath hitches in his chest until it feels like he isn’t getting enough oxygen. He loosens another button of his shirt and takes a massive gulp of the vodka soda he bought, wincing at the taste.

Oh fuck.

He’s in love with Mitch.

He focuses his attention back across the room to see Mitch staring at him, concern written across his face. He stands from the table and makes his way over to Scott, who’s stood frozen next to the bar.

“Scotty, are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” he says, trying to sound completely normal, though he has no control over his wide eyes, his stuttering breaths.

“Are you sure?” Mitch presses. He reaches a hand out to clasp Scott’s own sweaty one, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

The room around them blurs as Scott’s gaze focuses on his friend in front of him. The only thing he can feel besides his racing heart is their one point of contact. And it burns deliciously, tingles zipping up and down his arm. All of a sudden, he can’t remember a time when he wasn’t in love with Mitch. When he didn’t want to hold him, kiss him, sleep next to him. Make love with him (and Mitch would laugh at him if he ever heard it described as that). When he wasn’t the first person he wanted to see when he opened his eyes in a morning or the person he wanted to say ‘goodnight’ to everyday for the rest of his life.

He can see everything. Their past, present and future in the brown eyes that stare back at him and he knows what he needs to do.

But first…

“Dance with me?” Scott asks, not even giving Mitch a chance to respond as he pulls him towards the dancefloor. Mitch follows silently - not that Scott would be able to hear him anyway, but when he turns to check on him, Mitch is smiling sweetly, inaudible giggles falling from his lips.

Scott spins him in the space they’ve created before pressing his front against Mitch’s back, gripping his hips in his hands and kissing the back of his head.

Now, this is familiar. The feeling of Mitch pressed against his front. Whether it’s cuddles on the sofa, or leaning over him as he makes coffee, or dancing in a random club when they had a free night back home. Smaller body enveloped in his arms, smelling, looking, feeling amazing. Scott wonders, once again, how he never noticed this before. This feeling of belonging, of contentment, but at the same time, excitement thrums through his veins. His heart feels so _full_ from how much he loves this person who makes him feel like he’s floating, like he’s soaring above everything; nothing can touch him in this little slice of paradise.

He moans when Mitch pushes his ass against him as he grinds his hips to the music. Mitch turns his head towards him, smirking at the reaction he elicited. Scott lets go of Mitch’s hips, running his hands down Mitch’s arms until he reaches his hands. He laces their fingers together before wrapping both of their arms around Mitch, pressing their lower halves together, letting him feel how hard he is, smiling as Mitch groans this time.

They soon set a steady rhythm, no longer following the music, bodies swaying, Scott moaning softly as his arousal heightens. It’s by far the most he’s been turned on, and they haven’t really done anything yet. He feels lightheaded, drunk on the feeling. He leans down, starts planting open-mouthed kisses to the side of Mitch’s neck, making his way down.

Just as he’s about to kiss the juncture between his shoulder and neck, lick and suckle at the skin under his mouth, Mitch turns abruptly in his arms.

“We need to go home,” he says, teeth gritted, jaw tense. His eyes are wide, pupils blown with his own arousal. He licks his lips subconsciously as his gaze flickers across Scott’s face as if unsure where to look.

Scott cups Mitch’s face in his hands. He rests his forehead against Mitch’s, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

“Are you sure?” he asks. He really needs to know that they’re both on the same page with this. It’s one thing to be grinding on each other on the dancefloor - their friendship can survive that. But it’s another thing entirely to take it one step further, to cross that line he didn’t realise they’ve been straddling for so long.

“Scott, I’ve never been so sure of anything before.” He raises up on his tiptoes so his mouth is against Scott’s ear. Scott holds onto his waist to steady him. He digs his fingers in when Mitch whispers, “Now, take me home and fuck me.”

He blinks.

Okay.

He can do that.

\--

They’ve barely made it through the door before Scott is backing Mitch into the hard surface, covering his small frame with his body, every inch of them touching. They still haven’t kissed yet and Scott feels like bursting into flames from how intense everything feels.

He reaches his hands up, wrapping them either side of Mitch’s neck so he has no choice but to look at him.

“I know you said you want this, but I need you to know this isn’t a one-off for me. This isn’t because I’m leaving tomorrow and we’re drunk and emotional. This is because I love you so fucking much and I want you to be mine. In every sense of the word,” Scott says softly, thumbs rubbing at the skin on the underside of Mitch’s jaw. He stares into Mitch’s eyes, needing him to understand, to believe him.

Mitch’s eyes focus slightly despite the lust still swirling underneath. It settles the last of the nerves in Scott’s stomach.

“Babe,” Mitch starts, reaching his own hand up to cup Scott’s cheek. “God, you have no idea, do you?”

“Mitch?”

Mitch closes his eyes and pulls Scott’s head down until his forehead is resting against his.

“I love you.” He says it so tenderly that a lump forms in Scott’s throat and tears spring to his eyes. He closes them before they fall. “You could never be a one-off. I admit it wasn’t something I thought about a lot, but spending the last half a year without you, it made me realise a lot of things. You are my world, my everything. Baby, I’m so in love with you and I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life.”

Scott opens his eyes. He’s seen Mitch lie through his teeth, he’s seen him when he’s scared, confused, unsure, but this… Scott can only see love and acceptance and truth. He takes a breath and then darts forward, pressing his lips against Mitch’s.

He keeps it simple. Lips moving together, he lets all the love and desire flow out through his mouth into Mitch’s. But when Mitch runs his hands up Scott’s back and wraps his arms around his neck, hands running through his hair, a switch flips inside him and it’s no longer soft.

Scott runs his tongue along the seam of Mitch’s lips and when he opens his mouth to him, dives in to taste and lick and suck.

It’s not enough.

Pulling away, he kisses down Mitch’s jaw and neck, leaving a wet trail behind. His hands find their way underneath Mitch’s shirt, smoothing over skin that’s as soft as Scott imagined it to be.

Stepping away, Scott starts to unbutton his shirt, his mouth watering as more and more skin is revealed. He glances up and finds Mitch with his head thrown back, breath coming in short pants and eyes closed.

With the last button open, Scott pushes it off Mitch’s shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. He cups Mitch’s cheek in one hand, tilting his head towards him.

Running his free hand down Mitch’s chest, Scott flicks and pinches the nipple beneath his fingers, pushing his mouth back against Mitch’s to swallow every single moan that Mitch releases greedily.

Mitch wrenches his head out of Scott’s hold and pushes him backwards.

“Bedroom now,” he demands.

\--

Before Scott knows it his alarm starts blaring from the nightstand, signalling their return to reality.

Neither of them have slept; too wrapped up in each other to notice the time. Talking softly, sweetly as they cuddled in Mitch’s bed; Scott’s arm around Mitch’s shoulders, Mitch leaning back against his chest. Talking about everything and nothing. Reminiscing about their childhood, delving deeper into stories from the last few months, talking about Kirstie and Meredith and their families. Never mentioning what they are now, where they go from here.

With a sigh, Scott kisses Mitch’s temple and pulls away from him, reaching to turn the obnoxious noise off. He needs to be at the airport in a couple of hours and still needs to shower and pack the rest of his things. And he needs to do it without thinking about what’s going to happen to them now, without wondering if it really was just one night, without breaking down.

He sits on the edge of the bed, scrubbing at his gritty eyes. When he turns back to Mitch it’s to find him staring at him.

“You okay?” Mitch asks. He crawls towards Scott and wraps his arms around his neck from behind, holding him securely against his chest. The kisses he presses to Scott’s shoulder really aren’t going to make him move any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Are you?” He reaches up to grab onto Mitch’s arms, not caring how tight he’s holding on. He doesn’t ever want to let go.

“Yeah, I’m good. Do you want me to make some coffee while you shower?”

Scott smiles. “That would be great, thanks.” He turns to face Mitch. “Can I also ask a favour?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Um, can you not come to the airport?” Mitch goes to speak, but Scott cuts him off. “This is going to be hard enough without drawing out a goodbye.”

Mitch tilts his head to look at him, staring for a few seconds before nodding sadly.

“Thank you.”

Scott kisses him on the cheek before standing from the bed, stretching his body out. Mitch stands with him and wraps his arms around Scott’s waist, leaning his head against his chest.

“I’ll have coffee waiting in the kitchen when you’re done,” he mumbles into Scott’s chest.

Scott leans down to kiss the top of his head, wishing he could stay like this forever.

\--

_are you home yet? this apartment is too quiet without you_

_just pulling up now. this apartment looks sad and lonely_

_are you going to work tomorrow?_

_maybe, haven’t decided yet. i’m so tired_

_i’m going to let you settle back in and sleep. love you_

_love you always and forever_

\--

“How was the trip?”

Scott looks up from the page he’s been staring at for an hour to see Kirstie leaning against the door frame. It’s the first time he’s seen her since he got back. She went on her own vacation the day he returned and he’s missed her. More than he thought he would. Missed her company and her advice. Missed her coffee and her hugs.

From the look on her face, she knows exactly how the trip went. Equal parts sympathetic and curious. Letting out a sigh, he gestures for her to come into the room. She quietly closes the door behind her and comes over to the desk, perching next to him on the edge.

“Well?”

Scott drops his pen onto the desk, leans back in his chair and sighs again. “It was amazing. I had such a great time. Mitch has really done well for himself.”

“Then why have you been walking around like a bear with a sore head since you got back? Avi told me you’ve not been yourself.”

“I just- The week was everything I wanted it to be. We had fun. We laughed. We ate a lot, we drank a lot. He took me to see everything I wanted to, and then on the last night…” Scott lets the sentence trail off, hoping he doesn’t have to spell it out to her.

A grin lights up her fast. “Really? Oh my god. I’m so happy for you. Both of you. I knew I was right!” Her excitement dies off though, when she notices Scott isn’t smiling with her. “What? What is it?” She reaches over and puts her hand on his shoulder, ducking her head down to catch his eye.

Tears fall before he’s able to stop them. “It was perfect.”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because I had to leave.”

“Oh.”

“And I haven’t spoken to him since.” Scott lifts his hands up to cover his face. A sob escapes his chest.

“Oh, Scotty.”

Kirstie pushes his hands away from his face and climbs onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him. Scott pulls her closer, burying his face in her neck. He doesn’t care that she’s seeing him cry, he doesn’t care that he’s soaking the shoulder of her sweater, he doesn’t care anymore. He can’t breathe past the wall of sadness in his chest.

He wants them to stop missing each other when they call. He wants to talk to  Mitch and cuddle him and tell him he loves him. He wants him back in his life permanently. He wants Mitch to come _home_.

She lets him cry. Lets him hold her until he’s breathing normally again, until he feels like he’s not going to break into pieces.

When he lifts his head up to look at her, she wipes at his face with her sleeve, making him chuckle.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry for being sad. I’m here for you, whatever happens.”

Scott nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Do you want to go home? I can rearrange the afternoon.”

“No, I’m okay. I’ll be okay. Is there any coffee made?”

“Not yet. I’ll go and do that for you now.” She stands up and heads over to the door.

“I can do it myself?” He makes to get out the chair, needing to stretch his legs. He needs to move around, maybe get some fresh air. Try to call Mitch.

Kirstie turns as she opens the door, holding her hand up to stop him. “Scott, sit down. Shut up. I’ll be back in a second.”

He sits down and shuts up.

\--

It’s been a long day for Scott. He’s very much looking forward to getting takeout and climbing into bed to watch a movie. Have a quiet few hours before he goes to sleep.

After breaking down in front of Kirstie earlier, he couldn’t really concentrate enough to focus so headed over to Avi’s studio and watched him work instead. It was relaxing, watching him competently mess with the dials and buttons as he directed the singer in the booth.

Avi has been there with Scott from the start, when they met through a mutual friend and set up their little business. Avi always said it wasn’t what he saw himself doing; wanting to be a singer like everyone else who tries to make it in LA, but he gave up when he realised how hard it was, how much time he’d have to spend away from his family. Instead, he works in the studio with Scott, and then every couple of months, goes back home and spends a week there.

At first it was really hard, trying to make a name for themselves as producers and songwriters, but they’ve managed to make a niche for themselves. They’ve pulled in some great artists over the last few years. Work isn’t in short supply now, and they work to their own schedule, not the pressures of the industry.

People always said it wouldn’t last. He likes that they’ve proved everyone wrong.

Walking down the hallway, turning on lights as he goes, Scott stops at the threshold of Mitch’s room, leaning against the door frame.

Mitch's room sits unused; Scott refusing to find someone to fill the space. He can afford to leave the room empty, and when Mitch returns ( _if_ he returns, his brain supplies unhelpfully) it'll be ready and waiting for him.

He remembers when they moved in. Helping each other unpack. First Scott’s room, and then Mitch’s. Mitch struggling to find space for all his clothes, growling at Scott when he started laughing, literally rolling around on the bed with tears in his eyes until Mitch body slammed him to shut him up. Tickling Mitch until he apologised.

Horror movie nights cuddled up under the covers, Scott hiding behind Mitch. Not sleeping because shadows are scary, okay? Mitch eventually putting Spongebob on to distract Scott, falling asleep tangled around each other with the tv still on. Waking up in the morning with a dead arm from Mitch sleeping on it all night. Groaning as pins and needles shot up his arm. Mitch laughing at him.

Watching as Mitch packed up the last of the things he’d need in London. Piles of unwanted clothes at the end of the bed. Bags ready and waiting by the door. Pulling Mitch into his arms and begging him to not forget about Scott. Silent tears running down both of their faces as they realised this would be the longest they’d ever been away from each other. Promises to Skype and text and visit each other when they had chance. Promises to always be best friends no matter what.

His phone rings in his pocket, startling him out of his memories. Sliding it out, Scott’s eyes widen when he sees the name.

“Mitch?”

“Hey, is this a bad time?”

“No, not a bad time at all. I’ve just got home. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he pauses. “Look, um, I had an idea and I wanted to run it by you.”

“Shoot.” Scott closes the door to Mitch’s room and sets off for his own. He turns the light on and heads to the window, closing the drapes, before dropping heavily on the end of his bed.

“So, I had a conference call with the bosses yesterday and… um, I asked them if I could come back to LA.”

Scott freezes. “What? Mitch? What?”

“I want to come home.”

“Not that I’m not really happy to hear those words from your mouth, but why? Mitch, London was everything you wanted. You worked so hard for it. Please, don’t give all that up for me,” Scott begs. He’ll never forgive himself if Mitch does this and ends up regretting it. He wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye if that happened, knowing that he’s the cause of Mitch’s dream crumbling around him.

“I’m not, I promise. You’re one of the reasons, but you’re not the only one.” He sighs. “I miss LA. I miss the sun and the warmth and the people. I miss our little apartment with the crappy aircon and even worse heating. I miss my old job and, while being here has been great and I’ve learned so much, I don’t love it anymore. I love you and don’t want to be where you aren’t anymore.”

Scott huffs out a breath. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me I’m not making a massive mistake. Tell me you want me to come home.”

“Mitch, of course I want you to come home. But I want you to make it for the right reasons.”

“Scott, you aren’t ever going to be a wrong reason,” Mitch says softly.

Hope and love grow in Scott’s chest, erasing all the pain from the last week. He’s so in love with Mitch it scares him, but it’s so worth it. A smile forms on his face and he bites his lip to stop it before realising there isn’t anyone there to see him.

“I want you to come home. If you want to.”

“I want to.”

“Mitch?”

“Hmm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

\--

_i’m boarding the plane right now. see you in a few hours. i can’t wait to kiss your stupid face ;)_

_i’ll be waiting for you_

 


End file.
